


The Fuwagear Saga

by cestlavieminako



Category: Kamen Rider Zero-One
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fuwagear AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-01-31 11:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestlavieminako/pseuds/cestlavieminako
Summary: What if Fuwa didn't survive the fight against Kamen Rider Horobi? What if the unthinkable happened?
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	1. Gear 1

**Author's Note:**

> This AU was just too tempting to not start writing, especially after chatting with like-minded people who have just been making the idea grow. I might be a bit slow-going with writing this, as I have ideas for certain events that I'd like to have happen, but I also want to watch each new episode and kind of work them into canon (even though this is an AU). Plus, this is an AU starting after episode 8, so I have LOTS of time to figure things out, and see how I want to continue diverting from canon, while also keeping bits that work with the AU. Make sense? I sure hope so!
> 
> But this whole AU is basically "what if Fuwa didn't live after he fought Horobi, and he gets turned into what he hates most?" I'm stepping away from canon events after episode 8, just enough to suit my purposes, but I'll be working in stuff that happens during each episode that can still work with these events. I've got lots of ideas floating around, and who knows where Zero-One will wind up going. Like I said, please be patient, I want to make each chapter the best I possibly can, but real life will probably make that a bit difficult till the end of the year. But please hang in there! I love this AU a lot, and I want to do my best with it so everyone else can enjoy it.

Aruto’s order to shut down the medical Humagears at National E-Medical Hospital couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Yua had been following Fuwa’s stretcher, wheeled by an orderly, with Dr. Omigoto at her side…until suddenly he wasn’t. Abruptly, he halted in his steps, and went into shutdown mode. But the rest of the hospital didn’t stop like he did—or the humans didn’t, at least. Other doctors and nurses rushed through the hallways for their own patients, and the doctor was knocked to the ground, simply left laying motionless beside a door.

This was the hospital’s best doctor. The best surgeon. Truly, he was Fuwa’s only hope; as much as Fuwa hated Humagears, no one else would be able to operate on him delicately and accurately enough to save his life. The most skilled surgeon would still be like a bull in a china shop with Fuwa’s injuries. Plus, as Yua had been informed by an orderly, they were simply too short-staffed. It was either Dr. Omigoto or death for Fuwa. Even though Yua had seen the spot where the doctor had been hacked, if she could have powered him up herself, she would have taken the risk and hoped that he wouldn’t go berserk during the surgery.

Yua could see other Humagear hospital staff shutting down, and she knew who was responsible. She agreed with his line of thought, but not now!

She didn’t believe in God, but even so, she sent a desperate prayer up as she turned and dashed from the building, toward Hiden Corp.

*

“This patient is in arrest!”

“Dammit…where is his doctor? Get a crash cart!”

Human medical staff dashed around the still inert Humagears, the hallway suddenly much more crowded than before, voices shouting louder to be heard. Defibrillator paddles were discharged once, twice.

And then the Humagears powered up. “Take off toward a dream” echoed through the corridors as the hospital’s robot staff came back online.

Dr. Omigoto rose to his feet, momentarily uncertain as to why he had been powered down, until his attention was caught by the crowd around the stretcher he had been following. He saw a nurse feeling the patient’s wrist, trying to locate a pulse, even as another administered CPR.

Finally, one of the nurses noticed him. “Doctor! The patient…”

He hurried over to the stretcher, changing the scope of his vision so he could assess the patient. In the time he had been offline, wounds that he could have operated on had gone from life-threatening to beyond repair. The patient’s heart had stopped, and if CPR had not made a difference by now, then it never would.

*

Yua returned to the hospital, rounding a corner just in time to hear the doctor pronounce the time of death for Fuwa Isamu, and she sagged against the wall as a nurse lifted the blanket to cover his face.

*

Later, after Metsubojinrai’s attack on the hospital, when everything had gone back to normal, Fuwa had been place in the hospital morgue. And it was there that Horobi appeared, pausing before the slab Fuwa laid on, and pulled the sheet back from his face.

“I have much more planned for you,” Horobi said, his voice like an icy chill in the room.

*

No one knew what became of Fuwa’s corpse. It was as if it had simply gotten up and walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuwa’s eyelids twitched before slowly opening, his vision taking a moment to focus on an unfamiliar ceiling. He’d heard a voice before he’d opened his eyes...was he in a hospital?

Suddenly, a face appeared in his field of vision, and every fiber of his being tensed.

“Ohh, you’re finally awake! Horobi said it’d take a while, but that was like forever!”

It was the tall one, the one who had liberated the Falcon key from Hiden. What was he doing in a hospital? Why wasn’t there a doctor or a guard in the room? Surely Yaiba or someone had let the staff know how Fuwa had been hurt so badly in the first place! Why had appropriate security measures not been put in place?

But more importantly, Fuwa thought to himself, why couldn’t he move? Or speak? He was trying to put distance between himself and the terrorist, but he could hardly do more than twitch a shoulder.

“Ah, careful, don’t try to move a whole lot! You need a little time to get used to things. You’ve been offline for days, you know,” the tall Humagear continued, shaking his finger at Fuwa as if he were acting like a naughty child.

“Hmm...you probably can’t really walk right yet. I should show you around, though, since you’re awake. Right? Just laying around is boring. Here...upsie daisy!” the tall one stated, his voice far too cheerful as he hoisted Fuwa to his feet, allowing him to lean against him as he placed Fuwa’s arm around his shoulders. “There we go...better, right? At least you’re up!”

Hardly, Fuwa thought; he wanted to shove this irritating Humagear away from him, then henshin and see about giving him a few choice wallops. He barely registered anything the Humagear was saying, instead wondering why he felt so off-kilter. He _had_ taken quite a beating, but unless he’d been in a coma for months, he shouldn’t have this much trouble walking, should he? Weakness was to be expected, but not to this point. And he still couldn’t speak. Most likely, he just needed some water, his throat was probably just dry and hoarse...

And then he caught a glimpse of himself.

The Humagear moved past a weathered, cracked mirror, but even with such a dull and damaged surface, Fuwa was able to clearly see the Humagear headset sitting prominently on his head.

This was a joke. This had to be a joke! He was a human, not one of those...those things!

But...he had been wounded terribly in that battle, the logical portion of his brain reminded him. He remembered the attack, the explosions, how his consciousness had slipped away in the warehouse.

Had he died..? If he had, why was he with this Humagear terrorist? Surely no one would have allowed these creatures to make off with his body! Unless...had Yaiba and Hiden been eliminated as well?

The Humagear continued to babble on, oblivious to Fuwa’s distress, and his sudden resolve.

There was no hesitation as Fuwa grasped Jin’s gun and yanked it from the holster, shoved the barrel into his own mouth, and pulled the trigger.


	2. Gear 2

Fuwa had not expected his eyes to open ever again, yet he felt his consciousness returning. He kept his eyes closed, however, hoping that when he opened them, he would be in a hospital, or in his own tiny apartment, that the whole Humagear incident had been nothing but a horrible nightmare. Yaiba would most likely be there to read him the riot act for going up against that scorpion Rider on his own—or at _all_. He was a new enemy, and regardless of his feelings about Humagears, he should not have let his personal feelings guide him down a road to destruction.

Ah, if only he could go back in time and tell his past self that!

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in the same seat he’d been in the last time. As much as he’d wanted that to change, as much as he’d wanted to destroy himself, damage himself so badly that he wouldn’t be able to be repaired…he’d failed.

“You’re back!”

Before Fuwa could respond or react, the tall Humagear was suddenly there once again, throwing his arms around Fuwa and squeezing him rather uncomfortably.

Why was this fool hugging him? Fuwa had taken his gun and had used it to blow his brains—or bolts; did a Humagear even _have_ a brain?—out. For all the good it had done.

“You shouldn’t do anything like that ever again! You’re our friend now, and that was so scary! You just…you took my gun, and…”

The Humagear trailed off, sniffling, even though it was physically impossible for him to cry. Fuwa’s gaze slowly swept across the room, and he noticed the holstered gun on a table across the room.

Ah…they weren’t taking their chances now, were they?

“Horobi was really cross with you for doing something like that! It took him a super long time to fix you…”

“Jin. That’s enough.”

Fuwa’s gaze settled on the figure that was seated before an array of computer monitors, cables, and other assorted electronics. Horobi…he was the scorpion Rider. And the tall one was Jin, then? There was a third member of their little terrorist organization, Fuwa thought to himself. Where was he? 

The tall Humagear—Jin—finally released Fuwa and took a step back, as Horobi rose from his seat and came over, leaning closer to Fuwa than he would have liked. He _would_ have liked to punch the other Humagear as hard as he could manage, but when he attempted to move, Fuwa was alarmed to find that his limbs were strapped down to the chair he was reclined in.

“You’re causing me quite a bit of trouble, Fuwa. Jin has been very distraught since your selfish attempt to take your life. I would insist that you apologize to him, but since I haven’t given you back your ability to speak, well…”

Fuwa opened his mouth, and sure enough, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t say a single word.

_This cocky bastard..!_

“Perhaps I’ll turn that function back on later, once I’m sure that you won’t try anything else foolish,” Horobi continued, taking Fuwa’s chin in his hand and jerking his head up to meet his gaze. “How does it feel, to be something that you despise so? Are you afraid?”

_Like hell!_

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you,” Horobi said, patting Fuwa’s cheek. “We’ll take _very_ good care of you.”

Something in Horobi’s voice sent an odd shiver through Fuwa’s body, but he refused to break eye contact with the other Humagear.

“Jin. I want you to guard our new friend here. But please, make certain your gun isn’t easily accessible this time.”

“Ok,” Jin mumbled, still managing to sound somewhat distraught, if not slightly put out by his new assignment.

“We won’t need to worry about guarding him for too long, as soon as this is done,” Horobi added, but Fuwa couldn’t see exactly what “this” was, as Horobi had moved away from him and was facing his computers once again. “But for the time being, he’s under your care. Once Ansatsu gets back, he can help as well.” 

Ansatsu…yes, that must have been the third one, the one with the Dodo Key. 

“Can I show Fluffy around?” Jin finally asked.

_Fluffy?_

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jin. Remember what happened last time,” Horobi pointed out, taking a seat and tapping away at his keyboard. “I would have to shut down his motor functions, and he might prove to be a bit heavy for you to drag around.” After a moment, Horobi’s typing paused. “Fluffy?”

“Yeah. Because his hair’s all curly and fluffy,” Jin said, by way of explanation, before he trailed off, remembering how that fluffy hair had been damaged when Fuwa attempted to kill himself. The back of Fuwa’s head had been cracked open when the bullet had exited, all sorts of fluids leaking into his hair, his headset sparking from the damage it had sustained. It had taken Horobi so many days to fix him up, and Jin couldn’t help but hover close by, worried about their new friend. Why had he done something like that, anyway? He was surprised Horobi wasn’t more upset, especially with how long it had taken him to bring Fuwa online in the first place. Having to go through it all over again to repair the damage Fuwa had done to himself, while Horobi was busy working out their plans to bring more Humagears to their side as new friends, not to mention destroying the humans!

Fuwa thought he heard the soft sound of a chuckle coming from Horobi’s station, before the typing started up once again. Jin, alternately, sat across from Fuwa, his face screwed up in deep thought.

Dammit…there had to be a way out of the restraints, Fuwa thought to himself. He wouldn’t try the gun again; that clearly would do no good. But at the same time, with both Jin and Horobi in the room, trying to escape would be suicide. And he’d seen how pointless suicide was. There was no chance they’d let him go, and it was doubtful he could take them both on, especially when he recalled how easily Horobi had beaten him in Rider form. Plus, it seemed like Horobi had a way to control him; it would be child’s play for him to simply shut down Fuwa’s motor functions.

This was, indeed, a mess, and Fuwa couldn’t see a way out of it. He had no idea what laid beyond the door if he left the room, and even if someone were to come in now, he was at an angle where he’d have to turn to see, and surely that would alert someone to his plans.

For now, he supposed, he would just have to wait. Bide his time. They couldn’t keep him restrained forever. “You’re smart enough, Fuwa…impatient, but smart. Let them think you’ve given in to despair. Maybe then, an opportunity will present itself. You’ve got time,” he thought to himself. “You’re one of those things now…you’ve got all the time in the world.”


	3. Gear 3

The day slowly passed, and Fuwa remained strapped to the chair he’d awoken in. It sounded as though it had started raining, or there was a leak in the sad little lair of the Metsubojinrai terrorists; drops of water fell from the ceiling and landed in a bucket in the corner of the room, sounding incredibly loud to Fuwa’s newer enhanced hearing.

Horobi was still busy doing...whatever it was that he was so engrossed in. And whatever it was, it made Fuwa feel almost anxious, because he knew it was something related to him.

How was he going to get out of this? He didn’t want to be around to find out what, exactly, Horobi was busy creating. If he could escape—and god, that was a big “If”—perhaps he could give this location to AIMS, and with luck, the enemy could be taken down. He would have even been glad to see Hiden right now. Hiden, with his foolish optimism and his awful jokes. If he could get Fuwa out of this place, though, he would happily offer his services to the company in return. If he even needed another Humagear in his employ. But what could Fuwa do otherwise? He doubted he’d be welcomed back to AIMS. He would most likely be considered an illegal Humagear, even though he’d had no control over the matter. The idea of being shut down because of a decision he'd had no part in making just rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps he wanted to die, but he didn't want to die like _that_.

“It’s done!”

Fuwa’s head shot up, panic in his eyes, as he thought for a moment that Horobi had finished whatever he’d been working on...but no, he hadn’t spoken, it was Jin, who was happily grinning at something on his little table.

Fuwa did see Horobi watching him, as if taking in his reaction, and a slow smile crossed his lips, before he went back to his work.

Shit...what was _that_ all about, Fuwa wondered to himself.

Before he could contemplate it further, a piece of paper was thrust before his eyes, and Fuwa drew back, startled.

“Look! It’s all of us! See? Me, Horobi, Ansatsu-chan, and Fluffy!” Jin explained, pointing to each crayon-scribbled figure in turn. “We’re like a family now.”

_The hell we are._

Fuwa’s seat started to roll back a few inches, and Jin’s hand shot out to catch it. “Whoops. Oh! Horobi! Fluffy’s chair has wheels, so I can show him around without him moving around and doing anything bad! Can I? Please? I’m bored, and he’s bored too, right, Fluffy?”

Fuwa gritted his teeth, but managed a short nod.

“See? And Ansatsu-chan still isn’t back, and you’re busy.”

After several moments of silence, broken only by the tapping on his keyboard, Horobi finally made a small sound of affirmation. “Very well. But keep a close eye on him. If he manages to get free and tries to run, you’ll have to take him down.”

As he finished speaking, Horobi turned to glance at Fuwa. “And Jin is an excellent shot. I’d hate to have to take another several days out of my schedule to repair whatever damage you’d sustain from another foolish attempt at freedom, but you’re far too valuable to let you just slip between our fingers.”

Why, Fuwa wanted to shout. Why _him_? It hadn’t mattered in the past when they chose Humagears to join their cause. It was just whatever ones would cause the most damage to whoever they’d targeted at the time

Oh.

Was he being used as an attack against Hiden? Against AIMS? Or was it just because Fuwa had opened his mouth and just told Horobi how much he despised Humagears during that ill-fated fight?

“Go ahead, Jin. But stay in this room. He doesn’t need to go outside just yet, not while he’s having these silly thoughts of running away. As soon as he’s our friend, then we’ll see.”

_I'll never be your friend, you sadistic bastard._

As soon as Fuwa finished the thought, he felt Horobi’s eyes on him, and he saw his lips move. He could have sworn Horobi had said “we’ll see”, but Fuwa couldn’t be sure. And how would he have known what Fuwa was thinking? He still wasn’t allowed to speak.

But at that moment, Jin was wheeling him away, taking him around to show him the sad little room where they spent their days.

And he was very enthusiastic about every little thing, stopping to show Fuwa every object they encountered. “Look! It’s so round and bright, isn’t it?” Jin declared, before hugging what had once probably been a fancy circular light fixture that Jin had found somewhere. It took up most of the room on the table that it occupied, and seemed to be one of the only sources of light in the room, not counting the glow of Horobi’s computer monitors and some natural light that peered past some mangled blinds covering what Fuwa only assumed were windows.

Jin stopped by the table—which wasn’t a table at all, he realized, it looked more like a bass drum—where he’d been drawing, and where his gun laid. “That? Is not for you. Bad Fluffy! Don’t mess with it again, ok? I don’t wanna have to hurt you with it, but if Horobi tells me to, I will.”

Jin’s voice went from happily childish to chillingly serious in a moment, and if Fuwa were still human, he knew his heart would have stuttered in his chest.

The moment passed, and Jin continued his tour, carefully skirting the large mound of cables that ran the length of the room, talking excitedly about every odd item in the room, which ranged from a wheelchair to a ratty purple fannypack, to a portion of a mannequin that was inexplicably turned so the rear end was facing the room.

Fuwa tuned out the babble after some time, his eyes darting around desperately, begging his brain to come up with a plan. Something. Anything! He couldn’t stay here; he wouldn’t! Jin seemed fond of him, but he’d made it clear that what Horobi said, went. And Horobi was still busy, still a chilling presence in the room.

Finally, Jin seemed to tire of the tour, having pointed out everything of interest (except Horobi’s computer—nobody but him got to mess with that! Jin knew better than to bring Fuwa anywhere close to the machines), and started to race Fuwa’s chair around the room.

Fuwa was starting to wonder if Humagears could get motion sick, as the room raced by at a dizzying pace, until the door suddenly opened, and Jin ran the chair into it.

“Ansatsu-chan, you’re back! Ahh, Fluffy, sorry!” Jin exclaimed, watching the chair topple over onto its side, along with its cargo.

The breath left Fuwa’s body in a whoosh (he found it interesting that he even _had_ any breath, and almost wished he’d paid more attention about how Humagears functioned, but he’d chosen to stay blissfully ignorant because of his hatred). But when he opened his eyes, he could see out the door for just a moment. It wasn’t much; just another long dimly-lit hallway, and at least two more doors, but it was more information than he’d had just a moment ago.

Then the door closed, and hands grasped the chair from either side, quickly righting it, and Fuwa found himself face-to-face with the other Humagear...Ansatsu, if he remembered correctly.

“You...are an enemy. Assassinate.”

“Ah, no, no! Ansatsu-chan, he’s a friend! He’s our friend now!” Jin argued, getting between Fuwa and Ansatsu. “Horobi just fixed him up, he’s gonna be suuuuper mad if he’s gotta fix him again!”

Ansatsu frowned, peeking past Jin at Fuwa, before nodding. “Ok,” he stated, then went on his way, pausing to lay a hand on Fuwa’s head before he passed by. “Fluffy,” he stated, then he was gone.

“Right?” Jin said, grinning.

_What is wrong with these Humagears??_

Fuwa heard Ansatsu quietly conferring with Horobi, while Jin brushed the dust off Fuwa’s clothing from when the chair had tipped over.

“Jin. Bring him over.”

Jin wheeled the chair over to where Horobi stood, and something that felt like fear shot through his body. When movement stopped, the restraints sprang free, and Ansatsu reached forward to yank Fuwa to his feet, before drawing his arms securely behind his back.

A pained yelp left Fuwa’s lips, and he blinked in surprise. Could he speak again?

Horobi moved closer, reaching out to pull loose the tattered remains of Fuwa’s necktie, before undoing the first few buttons on his ruined shirt.

“Don’t touch me,” Fuwa growled, his voice hoarse, trying to pull away, but Ansatsu held him steady.

“If you’re to be our little puppy, then you should look the part, don’t you think?” Horobi said, his lips turning up in a smirk, before he slapped something against Fuwa’s neck.

And then, there was pain. It felt as though a savage beast were tearing at his flesh, ripping it into bloody shreds, and Fuwa couldn’t keep himself from screaming. Hundreds of tendrils seemed to be burrowing under his skin, and he felt his body spasming under the assault. He’d never felt anything remotely like this when he’d been human, and he wondered if it would be enough to short out his system and destroy him now.

With that thought, Fuwa’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he felt his consciousness slipping away.

*

Some time later, Fuwa’s eyes opened once again, and he found himself laying in a heap on the floor. He gingerly rose to his feet, still feeling unpleasant tingles from his neck, and he reached up to touch it. His fingers encountered something that hadn’t been there before: a length of sturdy leather, loops of cool metal...

What had happened?

He saw a hint of movement in his periphery, and his head shot up, gaze landing on Horobi, who watched his every move carefully.

“Come here, Fuwa.”

Almost as if he couldn’t control his own body, Fuwa found himself crossing the room, pausing a few paces from Horobi, before dropping to his knees before him, palms pressed against the cold floor.

“What did you do to me?” Fuwa managed to gasp, before continuing, “How can I serve you, master?”

He gritted his teeth, turning his gaze upward, unable to look away from Horobi, who looked so triumphant.

After a moment, Horobi reached down and ran his fingers through Fuwa’s hair.

“Good boy.”


	4. Gear 4

Fuwa was truly disliking his new life.

It was bad enough that he was now a Humagear, and he could not escape the lair of the Metsubojinrai terrorists. Oh, but he’d given it a try a few more times. He’d tried bolting out the door once when Jin entered the room, but he hadn’t managed to reach one of the doors that he’d spotted in the hallway before Jin was on him—literally on him, as in tackled to the ground, and then dragged back into the main room and deposited before a frowning Horobi.

Fuwa didn’t remember much more from that day, until he found himself curled up on the floor beside Horobi’s workstation. His free will had clearly been turned down as low as possible that day, and he didn’t like that. So much time had been missing from his memory, where anything could have happened, and although he would never admit it, that terrified Fuwa.

The next time Fuwa had tried something, had been a half-baked idea where he thought he could overpower Horobi and make his escape. He’d grasped a handful of Horobi’s collar, intending on dragging him to his feet and punching him as hard as he could.

And then, Fuwa came back online, sitting in the same chair he’d been in when he’d first awakened in the lair. Why had he been offline? He glanced around in confusion, before his gaze settled on a mangled arm laying a few feet away, one that looked as though it had been crushed and ripped from the shoulder socket of some unsuspecting Humagear.

Fuwa glanced down at his own arms, startled to find that an entire sleeve of his ragged suit jacket and equally ragged shirt were missing, and his arm was bare. And his shoulder joint felt…odd. He glanced over at the severed arm, and realization dawned on him as he saw the missing sleeves covering it.

And then Horobi was looming before him, his expression terrifyingly serious.

“You were fortunate, Fuwa. If I’d had my sword nearby, we might not be having this conversation right now,” he stated, leaning in closer. “Do not. _EVER_. Do that again. Next time, you may not come back online at all.”

_If only_, Fuwa thought to himself, as Horobi abruptly spun on his heel and left the room. It was strange; now that Fuwa thought about it, Horobi’s voice hadn’t sounded as steady as it usually did. Had he gotten himself that angry about Fuwa’s half-assed escape attempt? Crushing an arm seemed a bit excessive, Fuwa thought; Horobi was more the type to simply wrest control back, and most likely mock Fuwa for even trying something so ridiculous.

“Ah…Horobi’s super mad now, Puppy-chan,” Jin said from where he sat at his bass drum table, cleaning his gun. “He’s gotta fix up Ansatsu-chan, too. Why do you keep being bad? Don’t you like it here?”

“Jin, that’s enough,” Horobi said, returning with a bundle slung over his shoulder. He reached out and took Fuwa’s arm, dragging him rather roughly to his feet, and pushed him aside so he could drop the bundle onto the vacated seat. 

It was Ansatsu—or rather, another Ansatsu. Horobi kept repairing, or replacing, the assassin Humagear, and Fuwa had been somewhat curious as to how Horobi was accomplishing this. Did he just have a hangar full of Humagear parts somewhere in the building? It was entirely possible, Fuwa thought. He had no idea what laid beyond this room, and the thought of a room full of spare parts—or worse, fully assembled Humagears—sent a terrified chill through his body.

Fuwa took several steps away from the chair, not wanting to be in Horobi’s way, especially at the moment. He wasn’t afraid of Horobi…or at least he would have said that before today. Fuwa had a healthy hatred for the Humagear terrorist that had brought him back from the dead, made him the very thing he hated most, but he hadn’t been afraid.

Jin had gotten up from his seat on the floor, his gun reassembled and in its holster, Fuwa realized. He hadn’t made an attempt to wrest it from Jin since that first fateful day, and he doubted he would again. His best bet would be to simply get away from this location, away from his captors, but that was proving to be nearly impossible. One or both of them were always present, as if guarding him, and Fuwa was certain that Ansatsu would be watching over him as well, if Horobi had any say in the matter.

Jin didn’t look as though he were paying attention to Fuwa; his attention was focused on Ansatsu, as Horobi plugged a cable into the Humagear’s headset. Fuwa did recall that Jin and Ansatsu had usually been working together, or were in the same area together. The expression on Jin’s face was as close to concern as Fuwa had seen on a Humagear.

Ridiculous, Fuwa thought to himself. If there were a Humagear that could show concern, Jin wouldn’t be his first choice. But Jin always went on about their “friends”, all of the Humagears that Metsubojinrai were corrupting for their cause.

It was irrelevant, Fuwa thought to himself. He didn’t care about any Humagear’s feelings, especially these bastards. He simply stayed out of the way, only listening with half an ear, but he heard Ansatsu come back online, heard Horobi telling Jin that Ansatsu had grown more substantially than him. He saw Jin’s face screw up into a pout, before he hollered “Whatever! You like him better than me! Even Puppy-chan likes Horobi better!”

What? Why was Jin dragging him into this, Fuwa wondered. He’d been quite content for Horobi to not be focusing any attention on him after earlier.

Jin stomped past him, huffing, then crouched next to a shelf beside the door. Fuwa glanced at him, then at Ansatsu’s smirking face, to Horobi, who had already seated himself at his workstation and was typing away.

A brief, fleeting thought of attempting to sneak out during the unfolding drama crossed Fuwa’s mind, but…no. He’d just come back online after getting an arm ripped off, he wasn’t eager to see what would be done to him next.

As if reading Fuwa’s thoughts, Ansatsu glanced at Fuwa, giving him a cool, level stare, as if inviting him to try something foolish.

No, Fuwa thought, he’d be smart to simply keep quiet. For the moment.

He heard soft sounds that he mistook as sniffling, coming from where Jin crouched. Humagears didn’t cry, Fuwa reminded himself, but even so…it sounded pitiful. Jin truly was like a child, wasn’t he?

Against his better judgment, Fuwa went to Jin’s side, crouching down beside him. Jin glanced at him, and the hint of a smile crossed his face, even as he reached out to gently pat Fuwa’s head.

“You’re…nice, Puppy-chan. You’ll be my friend, right?” Jin asked, his fingers running through Fuwa’s hair. 

Fuwa wanted to scoff at Jin, wanting to tell him he would absolutely _not_ be friends with anyone in the room, and yet…he couldn’t bring himself to cause Jin any more sadness. So he made himself smile, bobbing his head in a quick nod, and watched a grin spread across Jin’s face.

He couldn’t help but glance over at Horobi, glad that he appeared to be completely focused on his work. Ansatsu, on the other hand, was looking at Fuwa and Ansatsu, an expression of contempt on his face. When he saw that Fuwa had noticed, an unsettling smile crossed his lips, before Horobi motioned him over. They conferred quietly, and Ansatsu left a short time later.

Fuwa didn’t know what that had been about, but he knew he would be keeping an extra close eye on Ansatsu from then on.


End file.
